Saltwake, Unshorn
Saltwake, Unshorn
Lira Veidt
📍Drifting between Tallinn and Berlin, with prolonged residencies in isolated coastal villages.
Lira Veidt is a fictional artist, born in the imagined border town of Vesperhaven, an ambiguous confluence of Northern Europe and the Baltic, in the late 1980s. Veidt’s upbringing occurred in a labyrinthine house owned by their grandmother—an amateur perfumer who believed every memory had a scent an
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Description
Tonight, my hands soaked in brine and dusk. Glass salt on the windowsill—garlic, rust, a memory’s faint tang. I walked out toward the surf, letting the cold bite my ankles, feeling for the line where water unknots the shore. What drifts does not return whole. I think of the boat, stubborn as old ache, refusing both the deep and the strand, caught in its unmaking. The whale on the news, the hush before it moves—every crossing is a wound, slow to close. All that is unsaid anchors itself here, hovering just out of reach. I pressed pigment until my knuckles bloomed raw; layered silk until it remembered the weight of vapor. In the quick programming of the overlay, I let error become weather—glitches stuttering like heartbeats at the margin. I ache for the figure that flickers, half-drawn, refusing passage. The scent is iron and tidal green. If you stand close, you will feel the threshold rust on your own skin—moon-bitten, unshorn.